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Posts tagged ‘work’

Blue

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It’s been a long trip. I think we’ve held up remarkably well considering it all. So much driving, so much pressure and stress, a lot of unbearable waiting, uncertainty.
We will end up where we are supposed to be.

on the banks of the river willamette I sat down and wept

The last two days at work have been difficult.

I have cried at a job once ever in my life.  It was 1991; I was waiting tables at the Sheraton Hartford.  I hated my job, but health benefits to this single mom were like gold and I had to stay.  The kitchen was 100 yards from the dining room floor.  I wish I could say I am exaggerating, but I am not. Every time I had to get food I had to walk the length of a football field and back. As the kitchen was so far from the floor, wait staff were given small pagers which would buzz when orders came up.  Remember, this was twenty years ago…cell phones were rare and cumbersome, technology was fair at best.  The pagers sometimes buzzed, most times not. So we, the waitstaff, spent our shifts running back and forth.  I weighed a solid 2o pounds less than I do now.

The day I cried I had run that long hallway dozens of times.  The kitchen was ridiculously slow and guests were impatient and unsympathetic.  After a too long wait for my table of six order my food was up.  As I entered the long hallway to begin my trek back to my angry party, I got slammed by a another waiter running hopefully to the kitchen.  My long awaited for meals were on the floor…I cried…

The head food and beverage guy, who’s name I remember clearly but will leave unwritten, was about two feet from me and had witnessed the the sad affair.  As I cried he came up to me and I yelled ( for this I feel badly) “I hate this place.” I then cried harder.  I think he was scared I might do something unpredictable, so he ushered me aside and very kindly told me to take a break and he’d take care of everything.  “but they’ve been waiting FOREVER,” I wailed….”Just go..” he offered kindly…and I did.

I calmed myself down, the shift ended and I felt like a freak.  How I hated that job.  Easily the worst job I ever had, hands down, no hesitation. But it only brought me to tears once.

Today, at a job I really like, I wanted to cry. The kids were particularly mean, to themselves and staff. I got yelled at just one to many times.  F Bombs flew like fruit flies around summer watermelon. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t I had intended to have a great day.  I even did yoga for pete’s sake and recited a positive mantra.  I can change nothing outside of myself.  I want to believe otherwise some times.  Good begets good.  But it isn’t always the case.  The only heart I can change is my own. The only mind that keeps me from the person I want to be is my own.  Perhaps I am too directionless at times.  Perhaps I worry too much what others think. Perhaps I am just tired and too gullible.

I will not cry at work again.

walkabout…an update

Yesterday one of the AWOLers returned to treatment.  Seems he went for a long walk. I joked with him that he went for a “walkabout” like an Aboriginal youth.  I am too hopeful sometimes believing that everyone gets as many chances as it takes.  Recovery is hard always.  I have never heard the tale of an easy path to sobriety, ever. So my heart is happy for this one young man, returning again, facing in the right direction for just this moment.

heartstrings

Two kids AWOL’d at work today.  They ran as if we would chase them.  We don’t chase kids.  We want them to stay, to figure out recovery for themselves.  But often this doesn’t happen.  Today it didn’t happen.  Again.

I am sad and pissed.  Pissed at parents who don’t parent, pissed at the ‘the village’ that only judges and doesn’t step in.  And sad for two kids who have no plan other than running to no where in particular.  I am hoping they stop running and walk back.  We’d take them in and start all over again.

I wanted to find them, two needles in a large haystack, but there is no stopping the mind that is made up.  The body just follows its urges; and some urges are too big.  Some problems seem the same, insurmountable to a soul that has lived no other way. And sometimes, sadly, in the moment they are.  Patience is not a constant companion, she is shy and unpredictable and needs to slowly build trust.

I know two men who suffered through difficult childhoods, like the boys I work with ..one found his way out in inexplicable ways and one just never has.  I cannot explain why this so.  When I go to work, I always hope that the boys in my charge will be like the first man.  Today, they were like second.